I Was Raised Racist

I remember sitting having dinner with a co worker. It was my job I worked putting my self through college. The back drop was Reading Pa.

I had an Italian hoagie and a bag of chips. My friend Ulanda packed her lunch.

One chip in the bag was blackened and without even thinking I referred to it as a N@@@er chip.

Ulanda looked at me in disbelief and I could hardly blame her. I had to look at myself with the same sense of disbelief.

Yolanda was a person of color, and we sat and talked to it that day. I’m very much glad we did.

It is rather amazing how one little potato chip could influence how I carried myself in years to come.

History is something that we should not cover up. It should be stated how it happened and we should learn from it.